


blood of the covenant

by dorkery



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Orphans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkery/pseuds/dorkery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/22015.html?thread=93766399#t93766399">Incomplete kink meme fill:</a> Fem!Prussia (Gisela/Maria/Julchen, whatever name you give her) and Ludwig are children growing up in an abusive/neglectful household. As time goes on Prussia takes the role of caregiver, seeing her brother fed and to school, well looked after and diverting any punishments meant for him on herself instead. Sacrificing her own wellbeing for him (she doesn't eat enough, doesn't sleep, suffers in school) so he can be safe and successful.</p><p>As Ludwig grows older he wants to protect his sister in turn, against everthing, even after they were rescued from that home and adopted seperately. As a young man he seeks her out, determined to do right by her, unknowing what circumstances he'll find her in.</p><p>Previously known as "Blood and Bone"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb"

The car was an old jalopy that was barely holding together, covered in rust and tape. In the driver’s seat, Uncle was puffing away on a cigarette, staring morosely at the road as the car shuddered and gasped all the way from the courthouse to an old wooden shack on the edge of town, right by the woods. Uncle killed the engine, slamming the car door shut and shuffling into the building. Ludwig scrambled to his feet, picking up the oversized duffle bag by his side with both arms as he staggered towards the front door. He walked in, nervously glancing around. Moth-eaten screen door, rotting wood, dusty floors, peeling wallpaper. 

“Stupid bitch isn’t home yet,” Uncle growled, “Your room’s upstairs, last door down the hall. Move it.”

Ludwig struggled to go up the stairs, the cast his arm was in making it hard to hold on to anything, foot constantly slipping on the steps because he couldn’t see. On the second level, it was more of the same, with a threadbare carpet running along the floor. He tried to drag his bag as quietly as possible until he reached the last door. His room was small, or at least, it felt small because all sorts of junk was piled high against the wall, right up to the low ceiling. Boxes were haphazardly shoved in with the junk. It seemed like there were books and stuffed animal heads in there. In the corner, on the opposite end of the room, was a single bed with ratty sheets and a thin blanket, a chest of drawers by its side. An old radiator was mounted under the window. 

Ludwig sat on the bed. Then, he curled up in a ball and tried not to cry.

=====

“The fuck are you?”

He blinked up sleepily as a figure came into view. It was completely dark now, the only light in his room coming from a lantern that had been placed on the bureau. A girl was standing over him, hands on her hips. He quickly sat up. She straightened her back and stood at her full height. She was tall, light-coloured hair, very thin.

“Hello,” he stammered quietly, “I’m Ludwig.”

“Ludwig?” The girl eyed him, “The hell are you here?”

He tried not to fidget. “I… I live here now.”

“Because?”

“…I’m sorry?”

“Jesus, kid,” she rolled her eyes, “So fucking polite. Look, you obviously didn’t _choose_ to live in this shithole, so why are you here?”

“My parents,” he faltered, voice cracking slightly. Ludwig took a slow breath, “We were in a car accident.”

The girl crossed her arms, deliberating his story. “Hence the cast and bandages.”

“Yes.”

It was quiet between them. Outside, the chirping of crickets wailed on louder and louder. Eventually, the girl let out a long-suffering sigh and took a seat on the bed beside him.

“Spanner in the works,” she muttered. She cleared her throat, “Good kid like you, no other family you can stay with?”

Ludwig shook his head.

“Okay,” she said, sighing again, “Okay.”

=====

The next morning, he woke up to the sound of yelling and breaking glass. He was terrified, didn’t know what to do; part of him wanted to see what was going on, but he knew better than to get involved in a fight, no matter his intentions. He hugged his legs, sitting in the corner of the room, toes curling into the bed sheets. He wondered if he should listen, but decided to hum a song instead. When that didn’t work, he focused on the crickets outside, trying to hear more than just their chirping. If he listened hard enough, he could make out a frog, croaking deeply. Frogs… Maybe there was a stream nearby.

A door slammed downstairs. Footsteps stomped. Ludwig looked up just as his door opened.

“Breakfast,” the girl said, a tray in her hands. She set it down on his bed and watched him wolf down the buttered toast and orange juice. 

“When was the last time you ate?”

He thought about his answer, “Two days ago.”

“Still hungry?”

Ludwig hesitated, but nodded.

“How old are you?”

“Nine.”

She arched a brow at him. “You’re pretty grown up for a nine-year-old.”

“Is… Is that bad?”

“Nah,” she said, shrugging.

She seemed nice, if a bit gruff. Ludwig looked at her properly in the light, with his uncovered eye. She looked like a teenager.

“Are you Uncle’s daughter?”

She scowled at him. He apologised.

“Listen, kid,” she said, “You wanna stay here, you do whatever I tell you, got it? If I say jump, you say ‘How high?’ You’ve just made living here a hell of a lot harder, so you wanna survive, you do exactly what I say. Number one: Don’t ask stupid questions. Number two: Don’t talk back. Number three: Don’t go into the other rooms. Number four: Don’t do anything stupid. Number five: Don’t eat any of the food, unless I give it to you. And most importantly of all, don’t do _anything_ that could make Uncle mad. You got all that?”

Ludwig nodded, faintly terrified.

=====

It seemed like Uncle forgot he existed. Ludwig wondered if it was good or bad, particularly where food was concerned. The girl disappeared and reappeared as she pleased, and he hadn’t seen her in days already. By the fifth day, he was so hungry he thought he could die, so Ludwig crept down the stairs into the kitchen. He’d stepped out of his room for the first time in a week, waiting specifically for the house to be empty. 

The landing was right in front of the front door, and the only room with an entryway rather than a door was the kitchen, which also had a dining table in it. An old TV was on a table by the wall, with a rusted antenna sticking out of it. Ludwig went to the refrigerator, noting the lack of an electrical hum. When he opened it, he saw a big block of ice inside, with bottles of beer all along the bottom shelf. Otherwise, there was a wedge of cheese, some cured ham, and a small loaf of bread. He broke off a piece of bread, crumbling some of the cheese with his fingers and eating them together with shaking hands. It wasn’t enough, but he was so hungry he could barely think.

As he finished up, a hand was on his shoulder, jerking him back. He hadn’t noticed Uncle arrive at all, and the backhand across his cheek sent him to the floor, head reeling. He couldn’t hear the shouting Uncle did, his ears were ringing so hard.

It was a good thing, Ludwig learnt, when Uncle forgot he existed.

=====

“Don’t eat anything I don’t give you, don’t do anything stupid, don’t make Uncle angry; did you not hear a fucking thing I said?”

Ludwig shook as the girl forced him to sit upright, frightened by her touch. She jerked his head up by the chin so she could take a better look at his swollen cheek. He flinched as she touched it with her fingers, trying to move away from her and melt into the wall, sobbing out an apology as she barked something angrily at him. He flinched again when something cold touched his cheek, looking up to see her holding a rag with ice in it.

“Bring the swelling down,” she said shortly. He took it from her and nursed his cheek.

“Food,” she said, dropping a small sack on his bed. He saw bread, butter and cheese in it. “When the cast is off, you can get out of the house and work for more.”

He nodded hesitantly, reaching for another piece of bread.

Ludwig noted that the girl merely watched him wordlessly as he ate.

=====

The cast was off a week later. 

Now that he had use of both hands and the gash over his eye had healed up with only the lightest scar, Ludwig could go through the things in his room. He moved the stuffed animals to the far corner, digging out the books from the very bottom of the boxes. There were things like coats and boots in the pile too, some of them too big for him to use, but useful all the same for the coming winter. There were all sorts of books in the boxes, ranging from picture albums, to novels, to manuals on hunting and meat preservation. There were some books on astronomy and navigation in there too, and Ludwig took all of it out and laid it on the floor.

When he was a little more confident, Ludwig took to exploring the woods behind the house. He picked up a stick and dragged it along the ground, making a little trail with it as he followed his ears and tried to pick out the sound of water. There was a river that ran deep in the wood, and he was sure that if he followed it for long enough, it would reach the sea. But it was getting dark, so he quickly followed the trail and managed to make it back to the house before the sun set.

There was a sweet smell in the air, and Ludwig was surprised to see the table laid out as he got in. Uncle looked dressed up, hair slicked back and a grin on his face.

“Wash up and come to dinner,” he said. Ludwig obeyed as quickly as he could.

Uncle chattered on about his wood shop doing well as he carved into the roast chicken and worked through an entire bottle of wine. When he sleepily said something along the lines of having enough money to add a balcony to the house, Ludwig said that despite the house’s structure, the wood was too weak and rotted to support something along those lines, besides which, if he waited to long, winter would make the wood too brittle for construction

The girl considered Ludwig from across the table. As Uncle snored in his seat, she said, “Forget work; you’re going to school.”

=====

Ever since then, the girl was in the house less often, but Uncle’s good mood had made him more generous with provisions. Food wasn’t much of a problem now, and Ludwig spent most of his time reading or exploring the woods. He bathed in the river and washed his clothes there too. There was a hunting knife in the boxes and he’d taken it for himself; unable to yet hunt, he’d used it to carve a small comb from a broken tree branch. It was better than nothing, and at the very least, he felt like he could fend for himself a little.

It rained one night, a terrible lightning storm crashing over them. Ludwig tried to block out the sound, unable to stop the helpless sobbing he did into his pillow. Uncle was back that night, and he didn’t want to wake him up. 

It didn’t matter. Someone turned him onto his back.

“You’re crying,” she said, “It’s just a little thunder.”

He launched himself into her arms as lightning crashed nearby, illuminating his room in a blinding white before plunging into darkness once again. He buried his face into her stomach, sobbing harder.

“Why are you so afraid?”

“The accident,” he gasped, “Storm. Lightning—”

“Okay,” she said, wrapping an arm around him, stroking his hair, “Okay.”

She picked him up and carried him to her room, which faced the road rather than the wood, and had a dull orange light filtering in from the lone street lamp by the road. She put him in bed up against the wall and pulled her thin blanket over them both. Ludwig refused to remove himself from her embrace, so she kept stroking his hair until his breathing calmed down.

“Your room is cold,” he said after a few false starts.

“You don’t want to be here?”

“I want to.”

“Your room has the radiator.”

“It’s metal, it conducts electricity.”

“That’s right,” she said.

After a few minutes, Ludwig opened his eyes and looked at her.

“Why are you always gone?”

“My business,” she said, “Why do you ask?”

“I’m lonely.”

She was quiet for a while. “You won’t be lonely in school.”

“But I’m lonely right now.”

“Right now?”

“You only talk to me if I’m bothering you. If I wasn’t afraid of lightning, you wouldn’t be with me.”

She was quiet again. Soon, Ludwig fell asleep.

=====

Gillian. Her name was Gillian.

=====

She made him wear something nice as he sat behind her on her bicycle, and they cycled through a wooded path into town. Her bicycle was so old and rusted that she didn’t bother locking it as she leaned it up against the bookstore, whose owner seemed to know her. He smiled and waved when he caught sight of her. They went inside. When she told him that she needed schoolbooks for Ludwig, he hesitated momentarily with a glance to the boy, but eventually disappeared to gather up the needed supplies.

“Where do you work?” Ludwig asked when they had a moment to themselves.

“All over town. They’ll probably pay me more when they find out about you.”

True enough, the owner gave her a generous discount when he rang up the final total at the cash register. With some money to spare, Gillian offered to buy Ludwig something for him to read, and although he had been eyeing a book about bridges and buildings, he shook his head and told her primly that there were still many books he hadn’t finished yet in his room. That prompted a chuckle from the owner who then slipped a storybook into the bag with a wink. Ludwig blushed and stammered out his thanks.

They go from store to store, ostensibly to buy Ludwig the things he needed for school, but Ludwig knew from some of the frivolous purchases that it was an excuse to introduce him to the town. His pockets grew heavier with candy and knickknacks and, before long, they were done with their errands.

“Do you want ice cream?” Gillian asked him. He shook his head.

“Don’t you want anything?” She frowned. “Well, I want ice cream. Come on.”

They set their things down by a bench and wordlessly ate their ice creams. Townsfolk walked past and made conversation with her, asking after Ludwig. Eventually, she gave up trying to explain him and began introducing him as her little brother.

As they gathered up the shopping bags to make their way across town, Ludwig finally spoke up.

“Can we hold hands?”

Gillian gave him an inscrutable look, but eventually shifted all her bags to her left hand and offered her right hand to him. Ludwig curled his fingers around hers and gave her a lopsided, shy, slightly embarrassed smile.

A moment later, she smiled back at him.


	2. Chapter 2

Ludwig sat on that rusted bicycle every morning as Gillian took him to school. She never cycled off the same way, and every time he asked, she shrugged and said nothing about her whereabouts, only telling him to worry about school and nothing else. The other children from the town weren’t particularly well off, so Ludwig felt less out of place with his meagre (sometimes, lack of) lunches and cheap stationary. At the very beginning, it had been difficult for him to speak to anyone at all; he still stammered and couldn’t look anyone in the eye, but some of his classmates were very nice and patient and it got easier as time went by.

Gillian picked him up everyday, never on time, and Ludwig found himself both looking forward to and dreading her arrival. She left him at the house and disappeared for the rest of the day until it was time for him to go to school, or for her scheduled food drop that he was meant to ration. Uncle’s schedule was as unpredictable as Gillian’s and Ludwig felt his stomach drop every time he heard the jalopy pull into the driveway. He kept still and quiet in his room, doing his best to not exist and to finish all his homework.

One day, eventually, Ludwig plucked up the courage to talk to Gillian on their silent ride to the shack, his arms wrapped around her torso and his forehead pressed against her shoulder blade.

“…I don’t want to go back.”

“No?” She asked, tone as harsh as ever, “You lonely?”

Ludwig’s voice was quiet, a slight tremor to it, “I’m scared.”

The silence that followed was terse. Ludwig was afraid he’d said the wrong thing again and buried his face in her back, tightening his arms around her. This was the only time he felt safe, and soon, it would come to an end once they emerged from the wood and slowed to a halt in front of the house.

Gillian let out a long-suffering sigh and made a sharp turn, cycling back towards town.

“This is the library,” she said, once they arrived, “You can walk here after school. They close early, and I can’t get come back for some hours, so go help out in the kitchens at that diner until I come and pick you up. If I’m late, don’t panic. Just stay there. If you help out, you’ll get dinner. Got it?”

Ludwig nodded once, but hesitantly reached out for Gillian’s hand and gave it a terrified squeeze.

“You’ll come back for me, won’t you?”

She wrinkled her nose, “Just said I would, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” he said, looking at the pavement, “You did.”

Gillian lingered only for a moment. Eyes still downcast, Ludwig didn’t move until she put her feet back onto the pedals and cycled away, shadow disappearing from the corner of his vision. Taking a deep breath, he gripped his books in his hands and walked slowly into the building.

=====

“You’re Gil’s boy, aren’t you?”

Ludwig nodded, used to being called that by now. He had been exploring town more now that Gillian had given him leave to do as he would after school. He joined the Science Club and had fun building small rockets and things like that, and once extra-curricular time was over, he wandered around town before he hit the library. The green grocer was a very nice old woman and told him to come by any time he wanted a snack, and passed him an apple with a sad, knowing look in her eye. Ludwig could only stammer out a thanks as he kept his eyes to the pavement. He always stiffened up when she reached out to pat his head.

Ludwig offered to wash the dishes everyday that he was at the small diner. The owner seemed to allow it only because he was Gillian’s boy, but Ludwig couldn’t help but notice the resigned look in his eyes whenever he watched Ludwig. Without meaning to, Ludwig had frozen up when the owner tried to help roll up his sleeves when he was elbow-deep in sink water. He stopped standing too close to Ludwig after that, kept any contact to a bare minimum. Ludwig felt relieved, but also deeply ashamed for a reason he couldn’t care to name.

Gillian was rarely clean when she picked him up at the end of the day. Sometimes she was covered in grease, sometimes she was covered in soot, sometimes she was covered in dirt. Sometimes she smelled like a sweet-smelling soap and a shower. Ludwig wasn’t sure what he felt about it, though he hoped she could always keep clean and safe. On the days she was grimy, she waited outside for Ludwig to finish up his chores. On the days she was clean, she sat at a booth, talking to the owner whenever he decided to come out for some conversation. The owner watched as Ludwig mumbled his thanks and quietly climbed to sit behind Gillian on her bicycle, arms twining around her and head leaning forward against her back, regardless of whether she was clean or dirty. Sometimes Ludwig closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, imagining coal and gardens, or tea and laundry. Sometimes Ludwig fell asleep with his arms around her.

“You’re Gil’s boy, aren’t you?”

Ludwig nodded, managing to say his thanks without stammering as he ran errands for the diner owner, picking up the shopping from the general store. He ran quickly down the street that separated the two buildings, afraid of tardiness. The owner wasn’t unkind, but he was strict. Ludwig didn’t want to give anyone the excuse of punishing him or Gillian. He only got dinner because of a favour to Gillian, no more and no less. Ludwig was a child but he wasn’t stupid.

The days were full, filled to the brim with school and homework and studying and chores. He was so tired in the mornings, too tired to talk to anyone unless it was his turn to answer a question in class. Sometimes, he took the break period just to nap. But he didn’t dare miss any homework assignments or deadlines. Eventually, he knew, school would stop being hard to put himself through. Eventually he would get used to it. Life wasn’t bad. It was hard, but it wasn’t bad.

Ludwig tried to brave the stormy nights alone, but he was still scared to the very bone. He crept into Gillian’s room enough times for comfort, but she was never there. That scared him the most, the fact that he was being left to fend for himself, but mornings brought Gillian to him, and despite the unreadable look she’d give him those mornings, Ludwig felt relief beyond measure. 

He was a child, but he wasn’t stupid.

Gillian wanted as little to do with him as possible. He was trying hard to take whatever he could get, but beyond the hugging he was allowed on the bicycle, there was nothing else he was brave enough to ask for. He knew she could see it in his eyes, but she was quick to dismiss it. It hurt, but that made whatever little bit of kindness she showed him mean so much more. Despite the friends he was making in school, he’d never felt lonelier.

=====

“Boy,” Uncle said to him, drunk and gruff, “Winter’s near. Get firewood.”

Ludwig had frozen, hadn’t expected Uncle to corner him at all when all he wanted to do was pee quietly outside the house. When he tried to stammer out a reply, Uncle shoved an old axe at him that sent Ludwig to the floor, it was so heavy. With some vague directions to a clearing in the wood that Ludwig had fortunately explored before, he dragged the axe along the ground, a coil of rope over his shoulder.

It was impossible. It was _impossible_. The axe weighed twice what Ludwig did and his hands were starting hurt. But Ludwig was single-minded about it and didn’t want Uncle to be angry with him, so he tried and tried and was eventually able to chop a block of wood in half. The impact made his arms feel like they were going to be jerked clean from his shoulder, splinters catching him in the face with a cry. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and kept going, felt like he could keep chopping a bit of wood even though he could feel the blisters forming under his palms. His hands were burning up with pain, but Ludwig pressed on. Just enough to make a small bundle. Just enough to arrive at the house after Uncle had passed out.

As his sweat dried cold on his skin, Ludwig looked up. The moon had risen, but it was blocked by a thick swathe of rainclouds. Rainclouds. Ludwig immediately stiffened. He had to get back to the house. Lightning besides, he would catch pneumonia if it rained on him. As quickly as he could, Ludwig tied up the small bits of firewood he’d managed to chop with painful, bleeding hands. He tied the axe up along with it, dragging the whole bundle behind him as he began to hurry out.

Only, things looked different at night.

Ludwig let out a cry of distress. He couldn’t find his way out. He’d been looping around for hours, probably wandering deeper into the wood. The moon wasn’t bright enough to illuminate a path and the constantly rumbling thunder overhead was blocking out both any familiar sounds he could have picked out as well as his ever fleeting sense of calm rationality. Ludwig kept moving, dragging the wood behind him until he had no more strength in his arms. 

From a distance, he heard faint, but definitely present, howling.

Wolves? Were they wolves? Were they dogs? They lived by the woods, there _could_ be wolves, and Ludwig let out a terrified sob as he began to run through the wood, away from the noise. It didn’t come again but he remembered ow fast wolves could move when they were chasing prey and the shadows in the darkness and the lightning in the skies made it hard to think clearly. He ran and ran, tripping over fallen branches and running into bushes and trees he couldn’t see. He was covered in scrapes and cuts and he wondered if the smell of his blood could attract the attention of wolves, like it would with sharks in the sea. Ludwig let out a scream as he felt something snap loudly at his feet, and tumbled to the ground with a cry. He had smacked his leg against a hard piece of metal and it was swelling painfully. As he reached for it with shaking fingers, he realised he’d set off a bear trap. With a sinking feeling twisting up his insides, Ludwig told himself that he was incredibly lucky that he hadn’t been caught in it.

Thunder rumbled louder. The bear trap was made of metal. Metal conducted electricity.

Ludwig forced himself to stand up, but he could barely do that. He had bruised his leg right above his ankle and it hurt. He tried to move, fumbling around for support. Lightning crashed overhead. With a growing sense of futility, Ludwig sank to his feet, hugged his knees, was unable to control his panicked breathing as his shoulder began to shake. He stayed put, trying to make himself breathe as he felt the first patter of rain, light as ever, but cold to the touch where his tears were warm. He was alone in the dark. He was afraid.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, for hours it felt, but just as the drizzle began to swell into a proper rain, there were hands on his shoulders.

Ludwig jerked his head up. At the sight of pale hair and a concerned face, he jumped into Gillian’s arms and began to cry, loud as he ever had, letting out all his fear and frustration as he tried to explain why he got lost but couldn’t, couldn’t because he was sobbing so uncontrollably. Gillian’s wrapped her arms around him, stroking his hair and back, trying to calm him down. They stayed like that for a while until Ludwig’s crying diminished into hiccoughs and sniffles, and then Gillian heaved him up and carried him back to the house.

He wouldn’t let go of her. They slept in her room that night, with her hushing him quietly as he buried his face in her chest and sniffed weakly. He cried himself to sleep.

In his dreams, he imagined the guilty look in her eyes. He forgot it by morning.


End file.
